


steered out of danger

by jonaley5



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Historical Inaccuracy, Knight!SwaggerSouls, Oneshot, Post-War, Prince!SMii7y, a bit OOC, brief description of wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25891318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonaley5/pseuds/jonaley5
Summary: He wasn't too sure if they'll be able to survive.Yet, here they are; wounded, exhausted, but alive.He's alive along with the son of the king. He isn't sure if he can look after someone as precious as the sun.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Kudos: 11





	steered out of danger

**Author's Note:**

> > everything narrated is purely fiction and will not be associated with the mentioned people of this fic.  
> > will be calling swagger "Sir Eric" and smii7y as "Smitty"  
> > i am fully aware that the name "eric" is not swagger's actual name but for plot's sake do you really think there's a knight (or anyone in the medieval era) named "swagger"?  
> > no, i will not be adding to this fic since i forgot what i was supposed to write and wrote this about 2 years ago, i just figured i'll finish it instead of leaving it in my drafts. i lost interest of bbs/misfits long ago but i was surprised i wrote something decent when i was digging through files on my phone.  
> > they speak in modern lingo bc i cannot speak like royalty.  
> > again, i abandonned this idea
> 
> Medieval AU ft. SwaggerSouls and Smitty 
> 
> kudos, comments, and any feedbacks are appreciated! <3

Campfires are his favorite thing.

Silver light shines on him and stars blanket him with comfort. Fire that created streaks of orange light around him makes an ambient surrounding of softness.

The clearing he found was small and patches of grass spread everywhere but near the fire nor him. It wasn't a big deal, it's just a place to stay for the night, as long as he is comfortable, which is the case in almost every campfire he experienced throughout his whole life.

The flowers are a nice touch, too, and so are the little blinking insects deep in the dark.

His helmet shone in the moonlight, he noticed.

His shoulder buzzes with dull pain from carrying a burden (thinking about it again, it wasn't a burden). He spreads his legs forward to the fire, stretching and letting out a groan of satisfaction. He sighs as his hand wanders to his left shoulder, dried blood painted on pale skin and down to his fingertips. It was starting to itch and it’s a good thing he wrapped a ripped cloth to stop the bleeding.

It was silent; save for the crackling of the fire.

As much as he wanted to be comfortable, he can't help but worry about his current situation. It's not a casual experience where he has to look after something (someone?) so precious and valuable.

How can he protect it? What means does he have to do so?  _ Why is he trusted? _

His internal monologue was interrupted with a rustle in the bush. His head perks to the source of the sound; should he be worried?

He isn't worried; he sighed and turned his head back to the fire.

He coughed, "You can't scare me like that, young prince," he leaned on his helmet, waiting for something to come out of the bush and confess themselves.

A little boy jumped out of the bush with a huff, cursing himself about the thorns that pricked his arms, "Aw! I thought I had you there!" he whined, he grinned nonetheless, despite the pain.

This time, the man with the helmet finally took notice of the boy's features; the unordinary white hair, pale milky skin, bright green eyes, and a little short for a boy his age. Even in the dark, the other's green eyes threw him off guard;  _ unusual _ , like what the rumors say, he isn't surprised but it is still surreal to see them up close.

The boy himself was unusual.

"It was super dark in there and I hid in there, you should act surprised," the boy puffed his cheeks, "it would've been worth it," he mumbled.

"It would've been worth it if I didn't know you walked away."

They boy gasped, "I'm offended, but good point," he brushed his lap for extra leisure and a force of habit. The older man patted the ground softly next to him and with a tired smile, the boy exchanged the smile slowly approached him.

"I know that there's a river nearby and I found a lot of berries around here and maybe—" he sat down, "maybe a lot of salmon, or was it cod? Eh. Fish. Oh! And uh, I think there's a merchant that usually strolls there at dawn? I'm not sure," he ranted, lying on his back to the ground.

The man thought he was done with the boy's information rant, but oh boy, he was very wrong.

"By the way, is your name Eric? Sir?" he questioned, pulling out three wild berries from his pocket and offering it to the other with a smile, still lying on the ground.

Oh.  _ Oh _ .

Eric came back to his senses from the sudden intrusion of privacy, "Uh, yes?" he confirmed, slowly taking the offered berries. They were edible berries (thank god), smelled fresh and looked plump too.

"How did you know my name—"

"Okay, good! My name is Smitty – I think you already know that – and you, Sir Eric, you are one of my father's loyal guards and I always hear about you! I mean, uh, I know almost all of the guards but there's this one knight named John and he's kind of pretty, I'm not gonna lie, I'm not a stalker, I swear—" Smitty coughed harshly, immediately sending him up right.

"Excuse me, okay, now where was I? Oh, right! John; in other words, I’d like to be friends with him. But enough of that, I have access to everything including the people working for us and I don't think you really,  _ really _ go by your actual name and I’m pretty sure it’s not Eric but—"

"Slow down, you're going to lose your lungs fast," Eric interrupted him, throwing his last berry into his mouth. Smitty choked on his own breath, coughing so roughly that Eric can feel his own lungs go dry and refill with ash, he figured that it's better to pat the boy's back than leave him like that.

Smitty took a deep breath before another wave of coughs took over, "I'm almost never restless," he took another deep breath and exhaled slowly, "but after what happened today I guess I do need to slow down. I miss my crown," the prince reminisced as he pocketed another handful of berries and nibbled on one.

"I don’t know why your father left you with me. But it’s his last command, it’s my duty to obey until the day I perish,” Eric rubbed his hands. The young boy looked down at the mention of his father.

“We leave at dawn tomorrow. I’m going to need a map around these parts of the forests. We're going to meet that merchant you're talking about," Eric peeled out of his coat, laying it neatly on the ground where the boy was before.

Smitty turned his head, "Oh, I am correct? The guessing master back at it again?" he playfully inquired with his mouth muffled; playing with the berry that he was nibbling seconds ago between his lips.

"You mean?" Eric amused, leaning back to where he was before, realizing that it was the wrong response because this boy talks by a mile.

"I mean I only try to infer, I didn't think I would be right, you know? Father says it’s never my business to know what you do because I am not at my age but whenever I look from my window, I can’t help but observe. I feel like Rapunzel in my room.

“John leaves at dawn and he always comes back with some stuff and maybe food for his fellows? For all of you I presume? I can only assume that he's meeting a merchant or uh, maybe, I think an explorer of some sort? Only merchants sell a variety of weapons and those weapons I see him sneak in at midnight are important – I can tell.

“I somehow estimated the time he takes when going out and my god, he takes so long. This place isn't even two hours away from where we were but  _ he _ somehow takes three? Why is he taking so long anyways—"

"Yeah, John," Eric interrupted him, if no one does, who will?

"He usually brings back stuff that the head maiden tells him to get. The good stuff, too. Good shape, good quality, nothing spoiled. He has his ways," he says, trying to emphasize awe in his words, proceeding to lay down with eyes that face the stars and the night sky.

"Now go to sleep," as soon as the knight said that, he began counting the seconds of how long the young prince can keep his mouth shut.

Apparently, less than 5 seconds.

"Is it true that one of the head guards had a scandal with the head maiden—"

"Go to sleep."

"But wait, wait, wait, now that I think about it, it's really hilarious and stupid as hell—"

Eric turned his body, away from the sky and his back facing the boy. "Good night,  _ Prince _ ," Eric deadpanned.

Smitty opened his mouth but quickly shut it, "Okay, well, I–" he coughed, awkwardly this time, "alright, uh, good night..?" he said as he slowly flatten Eric's ragged coat and lay back down.

Insects croak in the distance and trees tower their small clearing.

They waited for a couple of minutes and let the night sing them a lullaby.

The stars twinkled their glows and let it dance along the soft melody while the clouds waltzed like there’s no tomorrow. There _will_ be a tomorrow; but they both knew it wouldn’t be a pleasant one.

With closed eyes and open hearts, they slipped unconscious into their dreams.


End file.
